


A Case of The Forgetsies

by RefrainGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Amnesiac Aziraphale (Good Omens), Amnesiac Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Banter, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Eventual Fluff, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), POV Gabriel (Good Omens), Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), Verbal Abuse, or hints at it anyway, or so it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22224502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Gabriel would not, under any circumstances, admit to being angry over his injured pride. Never would he say that he was angry with himself for letting the words of a washed up demon and a useless angel get to him. What he would do was stuff the bulk of it deep down inside, underneath countless rules and the structural bureaucracy that had served him so well. Then, he’d take his fury down to Earth, to Soho specifically, and set the bar straight.Gabriel is understandably upset about how things went down during Armageddon, and he decides to rant about it to Aziraphale - or at least that was the plan. Nobody mentioned that he had forgotten all about him. Nobody had said anything about thatat all.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 136





	A Case of The Forgetsies

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing erupted out of me as I was listening to Taylor Swift one day at work (it surprised me too). The song was called 'I Forgot That You Existed' and it just made me want to write a story about Aziraphale not giving a shit about Gabriel. I don't think he has the capacity to truly hate anyone, not even an asshole Archangel, but if given the opportunity he might appreciate showing Gabriel that he doesn't have to march to his drum anymore. Indifference? He could totally feel that.
> 
> Also... Sham-wows. Don't ask me why, but I wrote about Sham-wows.
> 
> So yeah, I worked pretty hard on this. It took me a while to touch up, but I think I'm content enough with it that I can leave it alone now. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

It had been a while since Gabriel needed to come down to Earth. The last time was when he descended onto the Tadfield Airbase, intent on making the war between Heaven and Hell a reality. Beelzebub had been there as well, much to his chagrin, but her presence had actually been kind of appreciated since she was an expert at tempting humans, and who better to convince the Antichrist child to commit to a predetermined apocalypse/war than an actual demon?

Things had been going so well up until that day. Right when it had started to seem like the pieces were falling into place, Aziraphale spoke up. _Aziraphale_. The pudgy Principality who could never do his job properly. The one who, as it turned out, spent eleven years trying to raise the Antichrist alongside his rebellious demon boyfriend. They had combined their efforts to see if they could turn him into a neutral child, just so that Armageddon wouldn’t happen. Then they had found out that he was the wrong boy, and now all Gabriel could think was that he wished he’d been more attentive to the whole scenario. If he had expedited the search for the boy, or if he had cared more about the thought of raising him, then maybe things could have ended differently. Maybe God’s plans would have went ahead unhindered.

But, of course, that didn’t happen; instead they wound up in the middle of a standoff at an old, abandoned airbase that held nothing of import other than him, Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Crowley and a host of humans who didn’t really know what they were doing there. In Gabriel’s opinion, they were just standing around, being in the way, as humans liked to do. There was no real reason for them to have come.

Despite the crowd of useless individuals hounding him, Gabriel had been this close to convincing the Antichrist to start the war (with Beelzebub’s help, but he never outwardly admitted to that). Then, of course, out of all the angels in Heaven, it had to be Aziraphale disputing the Great Plan. He had to be the one asking the questions that nobody wanted to ask, and he just _had_ to derail their beliefs in such a way that everything went to Hell in a handbasket - quite literally. Satan’s involvement had been Beelzebub’s doing, a fairly risky last resort on her part, and his arrival would definitely have sealed the deal if not for Crowley’s little time-stopping stint.

The Antichrist, of all things, was on their side now. All thanks to his own ignorance. Realizing that didn’t make Gabriel feel any better about it.

Afterwards, he took a lot of time to think about past events. There had been at least three years of peace that followed tranquilly in the wake of Armageddidn’t, and by the end of the third year he had come to a frustrating realization. Contrary to what everyone tended to think of the Archangel, the one thing he was most upset about wasn’t the Great Plan’s ineffability. It wasn’t that debatable point that Crowley had brought up about God playing games with Her angels. He wasn’t even that mad about how the trials had failed, though he was understandably baffled by the outcome. What really pissed him off the most was the fact that he had actually listened to both Aziraphale and Crowley, and the worst thing was he’d _believed_ them. Even Beelzebub had shown a shade of doubt in her eyes and Gabriel knew that, when compared to the rest of her ilk, she wasn’t a fool.

The Archangel of Heaven and the Lord of Hell had been... ugh. Played for suckers. And he _hated_ that, he _hated_ the angel who had done it to them, and he _hated_ the demon that supported the angel and who, let’s be real here, had more than likely corrupted a celestial being with his seductive wiles.

Gabriel would not, under any circumstances, admit to being angry over his injured pride. Never would he say that he was angry with himself for letting the words of a washed up demon and a useless angel get to him. What he _would_ do was stuff the bulk of it deep down inside, underneath countless rules and the structural bureaucracy that had served him so well. Then, he’d take his fury down to Earth, to Soho specifically, and set the bar straight.

With a firm nod to himself, he snapped up a bright bolt of cobalt and its current carried him down to the sidewalk across from A.Z. Fell’s. The shop looked practically unchanged after three years, still an odd building that did not seem to match with its surroundings, but that wasn’t anything unusual. Actually, that was the only prominent thing that Gabriel did recall about Aziraphale - he wasn’t one to readily accept change, if his hairdo and ancient waistcoat were any indication. All of his clothes smelled disgustingly of human craftsmanship and long term maintenance. Couldn’t he just miracle something modern to wear, like everyone else?

Whatever. He dusted some electrically charged particles off his suit with a hand, wasting little time in marching straight across the road with no regard to the cars driving past. They screeched to a halt anyway thanks to a few well placed miracles, but he could have done without the loud honking. People were staring in awe and annoyance, filled with either questions about his feats (Woah, where did lightning come from? There’s no storm clouds anywhere? That man, he was hit! Is he alright?) or curses of an unsavory nature. Luckily for those few, Gabriel was too busy with his own agenda to rebuke them for what they said.

The door to the bookshop slammed open, the tiny bell jingling for all it was worth from the force of impact. “Aziraphale! Show yourself!” he shouted, and he probably would have shouted much more if he hadn’t heard the quiet, and rather unusual, response.

“Please sir, won’t you have some compassion for the other readers? I know this isn’t a library, but would it be too much to ask for you to commit to an inside voice?”

The words were spoken formally, to the point where Gabriel felt like he was being addressed as a perfect stranger. It was strange, to be sure. He was unused to being talked to as if he were on equal footing with someone, because honestly he wasn’t. There was nobody higher than him other than God, and that was the way it was supposed to be. So when he heard Aziraphale speak as if it were just another human stepping into his shop, well...

There was some shuffling from behind one of the larger shelves, a briefly thoughtful hum followed by an ‘aha’ as the angel slipped something into a visible space on the shelf. It was a pretty inconspicuous spot to put anything sellable, and if Gabriel had been in the mood to wonder why it was necessary to hide that object then he might have made a snide remark about Aziraphale’s poor business acumen. But he was too irritated to give any attention to his mundane hobby. “Me, taking orders from you?” He scoffed at that idea. “I don’t think so.”

After a moment he spied an elegant cream waistcoat emerging into the open. Was that the same ensemble he had worn to Tadfield? Oh Lord, it was. Gabriel wanted to roll his eyes. Honestly, didn’t he have any other clothing to wear? He could hope that perhaps the angel had more than one outfit tailored, since he refused to use miracles for actual useful things. Oh sure, he used miracles to make light appear in the sky, but he would never use one to cover up his corporation. Better to leave it to the humans to do that.

Aziraphale had a different object - right, it was called a book - in his hands now, a much older one judging by the language the title was written in. A white feather stuck slightly out of the pages, serving as a bookmark, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about seeing a holy relic being used for something so undignified.

“Nice bookmark,” Gabriel said, peering at the feather with disapproval.

Carefully Aziraphale shut the book and tucked it under his arm. “It would be nice to show respect towards the other customers, that’s all I meant.”

“I’ll give them respect once they’ve earned it, thank you very much.”

Gabriel was quick to narrow his eyes at the angel, who merely stared back with a politely neutral expression. “Is there something I can help you with sir?” he asked.

That Principality was the same as ever, in almost every aspect. Short, curly blonde hair, been that way since the beginning. Prim and proper posture, still there. Maybe he was a bit rounder around the midsection. But for all the familiarity of his appearance, Aziraphale had never called Gabriel ‘sir’ before. The way he was smiling at him now suggested that this was a well-rehearsed ritual, as was the illusion of breathing. He was dealing with another customer, not the Archangel of Heaven.

He crossed his arms, trying to choose the proper response to fit the situation. “Um. Can you help me,” he stated rather than asking. A dour expression set itself up on his face. “I would like to say yes, but your kind of help usually results in... well, nothing useful.”

No response other than the quirk of an eyebrow. Gabriel frowned a little. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Not so much, no.” Aziraphale shook his head, gesturing to encompass the whole of the shop. “I believe you are here to peruse my shop for a nice book to read? I assure you, every single copy is a first edition in pristine condition. I pride myself on the quality and integrity of my collection, so - “

“That’s not it,” Gabriel said, unimpressed. He stared down at him in bewilderment. “That is definitely _not_ it. Why would I care about what humans deign to scribble on pieces of bark? Their words mean nothing next to the Almighty’s.”

He watched Aziraphale’s brow furrow slightly. “Oh my. I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you if you aren’t here to buy a book,” he stated with a small sigh, clasping his hands meekly together in front of him. Though he sounded remorseful, the pleased gleam in his eyes was certainly not apologetic in nature. “Can I give you directions, perhaps?”

“Directions?”

“Yes. I’d be most happy to send you where you need to be, er...”

The angel waved his hand, frowned, seemed to be casting about for a name. It was absolutely ridiculous. How stupid could you be? Indignation rose to a fever pitch inside of him, and he barely had enough composure to swallow it back. He allowed himself to sneer, but it didn’t feel like that would cut it for long. “Gabriel,” he offered testily. “It’s Gabriel.”

“Ah, quite the biblical name, isn’t it? How lovely!”

Aziraphale smiled that same customer service smile, and Gabriel could feel himself struggling for control of his emotions. “I suppose you come from a rather religious background.”

He couldn’t have this conversation. It was too fucking idiotic.

“Enough of this nonsense,” he snapped, dispensing with the limited amount of patience he’d been holding onto. “Aziraphale, don’t play games with me. It’s not funny. What you do never is.”

“What I do? I’m sorry, but have we met before?”

Of all the...

Gabriel grabbed him by the shoulders and shook, not caring if he was using too much force. “Of course we’ve met! I’m your fucking boss - or I used to be, at any rate. I always knew you could be daft, but this is extraordinarily moronic, even for you.”

One would think a comment of that intensity might trigger some memories, a flash of recognition in the eyes followed by a steady stream of apologies. It would be immensely satisfying to hear that voice begging for forgiveness which Gabriel was not keen on giving, not even on a good day. That was what he had been aiming for with his little jab. The opportunity to see a pitiful angel on his knees, grovelling, where he belonged. What he got instead was a very confused angel tilting his head at an adorable angle as he tried to comprehend what was going on.

“How curious.” Aziraphale gripped his chin with a hand and stared down at the floor contemplatively. “I can’t say I’ve heard of you, sir, not until today. I’m also quite interested in finding out who might have told you about ‘being my boss’, but I regret to inform you that whoever it was, well... they are wrong. I am, and have always been, my own boss. I set my own hours and everything, it comes with the territory.”

He motioned cheerily to the sign hanging in the door, or lack thereof, before stepping over to slip a book that a customer had finished reading back into its proper slot. “Isn’t it a thrilling prospect, being in charge of yourself rather than allowing others to dictate your actions? I enjoy the freedom so very much.”

This was bullshit. It wasn’t profane if he said it in his mind, right? Did Aziraphale really expect him to believe this pitiful charade? Him? Nobody was supposed to just up and _forget_ about the Archangel Gabriel! That was impossible! He had been significant throughout history! Out of all the angels he was the strongest, tallest, handsomest, smartest... the list of winning qualities was endless; and most importantly, he was not one to be forgotten! Especially not by an angel who had once been under his command, who had no reason whatsoever to forget about his existence!

“Do you, now?” Gabriel ground out. His arm reached over to block the angel’s path, to stop him from dismissively walking past. “You’re really committed to this cover story, aren’t you? Being a small time book collector, living in this dusty little shop. It’s all very quaint, but I’m telling you now that even if you no longer answer to me, God still expects much of you. She is the creator of this universe, of every single form of life inside it, and being one of Her first creations, that means that you are subject to - ”

Aziraphale instantly tensed up, his expression turning furtive. “How did you know that I was an angel?”

“Um...”

He took a cautionary step back, his eyes traveling up and down and sideways, as if searching for bugs that could have been planted over the years. “Have you been spying on me? And I thought I was safe inside my own shop. Good lord, privacy is no longer a sacred thing in this day and age! Oh, how I miss the 1800’s...”

It was when he lifted up a book on his desk to suspiciously peer under it, mumbling about the unfortunate advancement of secret cameras, that Gabriel started to doubt that this wasn’t real. It was way too believable to be just a simple act. Aziraphale wasn’t missing a beat, no matter what got thrown at him. For the whole of the visit Gabriel had been regarded as a random asshole customer. Now he was currently labeled as a tall, creepy customer who enjoyed observing older individuals through the lens of a minuscule camera.

He had taken offense to the treatment long before that implication had been tacked on.

“You... you’re an idiot,” he muttered. “You must be, there’s nothing else I can think of to explain the level of incompetence here. How could you not recognize me, of all people!? After all the centuries you spent sending us paperwork, after all those meetings with me in Heaven!?”

The angel’s eyes stopped roaming the expanse of the shop. He blinked at Gabriel, took a step closer like he was finally, truly seeing him for the first time. “Did I? Meet with you in Heaven, I mean?”

“Obviously.”

There was a brief pause as Aziraphale considered this. Then he let out a huff. “Hm. If that is the case, it’s strange how I can’t remember you. I wonder what could have possibly - ”

His sentence was interrupted by the shop’s bell, and who else could it have been slinking through the doorway but Crowley, the badmouthing demon. He could have recognized that head of flaming hair across a thousand worlds. Great, just what he didn’t need right now. The support system was here. Gabriel resisted a powerful urge to rub at his temples.

“Hey angel, sorry I’m late but the M25 was just awful. And I do mean _awful_. If you thought Armageddon was bad, you should’ve seen what it was like out there today...” Crowley closed the door and as soon as he turned to face them, he slowly trailed off.

At first, Gabriel thought there was going to be a confrontation. He knew how much Crowley hated him, it was no secret. The way he had come at Aziraphale over the week before Armageddidn’t had definitely bothered the demon, and it stood to reason that he would be nowhere near cordial when someone insulted what he considered to be his. Under normal circumstances, he was not known to be amiable with anyone else aside from Aziraphale anyway

So yes, Gabriel had expected some harsh words. Maybe even for a fight to break out in the shop. Crowley had a tendency towards the unpredictable, and his mood at the time was all that it took to shift his choices. The melted puddle of dead Ligur testified to that. (Why Beelzebub had thought to tell him this was beyond his comprehension to this day.)

“Angel?” The word wasn’t filled with seething anger or resentment, to his surprise. Crowley seemed genuinely curious, that’s all. “Did I interrupt something?”

Aziraphale smiled kindly, waving him over. “No, nothing like that, dear. I was just trying to help this customer. He seems to think that he knows me from somewhere.”

“Huh.”

He watched the demon saunter over to where the angel stood, bending down to give him a chaste kiss in greeting. “D’you want me to wait in the back while you finish your business?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary Crowley. We’re nearly done here, I think.”

Gabriel felt like doing a double take. This was all wrong. All of it. Entirely wrong. Crowley wasn’t mad at him. He didn’t spare him the slightest interest. It was as if... almost like...

“You do realize what I am, right?”

Both of them turned to face him, and Aziraphale gave him this sad little look. Like he was the one who needed to be pitied, like he needed help the most. And Crowley, damn that demon, he just crossed his arms, gave him a once over with a small shrug. “Um... really tall?” he offered, at a loss.

He didn’t know how to respond to that level of idiocy. His arms floundered about, searching for words that he could express himself with, but none were forthcoming.

“Well, this was fun and all, but I really should get back to my books. Sir, if you would be so kind as to close the door on your way out.”

No. It couldn’t end like this! He had a reason for being here! A purely spiteful and selfish reason, true, but a reason nonetheless! It was bad enough that Aziraphale didn’t remember him, but now it had been proven that Crowley was in the dark as well. This was unprecedented! If they had both gone and forgotten him, then he would need to give them something to remember him by. He couldn’t just walk out of the shop, couldn’t leave the traitors behind without them understanding why his name was the one etched along the most prominent of history’s events.

Gabriel stood his ground. “I’m not finished yet,” he stated coldly.

“Well, obviously Zira is, so could you just take a hint?” Crowley then proceeded to wave his arms at him, shooing him towards the door like he was a disgruntled horse. “He said he’s done, so he’s done. Come back later or whatever. Tomorrow, even. Yeah, tomorrow sounds better.”

Aziraphale gave him an arch look. “Do you have something planned for later tonight, Crowley?” he asked.

Gabriel could practically see the shiver go up his spine from being caught. Crowley wheeled around to give the angel a grin that did absolutely nothing to allay his suspicions. “Who, me? Plans? Am I the type for crazy, elaborate plans?”

“Quite so.”

Crowley chuckled nervously. “Well, not today! No plans today. None. Nope. I don’t have plans. Plan is a four letter word.”

“It certainly is, but I get the feeling that you have made rather big plans, considering what is currently sticking out of your pocket.”

Aziraphale gestured towards the lacy, frilly black undergarment that was hanging out just enough for Gabriel to catch a glimpse of it. “What is that?” he asked, not really intrigued so much as he simply wanted to know for clarification’s sake. “I doubt it would cover up much of anything, if it is indeed wearable.”

“ _Shit_.” Gabriel wrinkled his nose at the language as Crowley stuffed whatever it was deep inside his jacket pocket, glaring heatedly at the angel who looked about as innocent as a newborn. “You... you are such a...”

“Now, now. We both know that you love me for it,” he finished with a smile, and Crowley’s embarrassment seemed to double at the implication.

“I just... Aaargh, you are so...!”

Crowley waggled a warning finger at Aziraphale, but that didn’t do much other than make him laugh and hold up his hands in placation. It was intriguing, how their arguments never seemed to lead to any severely damaging repercussions. Whenever Gabriel found himself in a dispute with someone, they always ended up being irrationally angry with what he said. Not many angels took his advice like they tended to take his orders, and he just couldn’t understand why they became so upset when he told them the way things were meant to be. Maybe they were upset because they couldn’t have things their way. It was all he could come up with to rationalize the overreactions he got.

Either way, Gabriel wasn’t here for a friendly liaison. And he certainly didn’t appreciate being treated like the third wheel that didn’t exist. “So, are we done being idiots?” he asked irritably. “Can I get back to why I’m not leaving?”

Aziraphale sighed heavily. He appeared to be very put upon despite the sternness in his response. “Sir, I’m afraid that if you refuse to leave I may have to call the police. We have rules around here, you know, and I’ve had about enough of your threats for one day.”

Crowley frowned at him, then over at Gabriel. “He threatened you?”

“In a sense.” The angel lifted a hand so that he could discreetly whisper behind it. He might have thought that he was being less rude in doing so, or maybe it was about secrecy, but Gabriel realized right away that neither of those aims were actually being achieved. “I have reason to believe this stranger has been spying on me through the use of those dreadful cameras you mentioned. You know, the tiny ones?”

Crowley nodded his understanding. “Ah. Yeah, those are barely detectable unless you know what to look for. Can cause a lot of trouble for folks.” He stepped over to Aziraphale, effectively blocking their visitor’s line of sight as he glowered in disgust. “So you think he’s a creep, eh? Now that you mention it, he does have the look of a top-tier arsehole.”

Gabriel blanched, feeling an immediate need to rectify the situation before his reputation started to fall even lower than before. “I am not a creep!” he exclaimed, giving an exasperated shake of the head. “I’ve been told I can be an asshole, and those are groundless claims, but I’m definitely not a creep! I was not spying on anybody!”

Aziraphale didn’t look like he believed his plea. He peeked over the demon’s shoulder, wearing a skeptical frown that showed no signs of going away, no matter what he tried to say. Gabriel then turned his gaze to Crowley, who honestly wasn’t looking much different. He was a demon, however, and there was not a being in the world who could lie better than him. Surely he would be able to sense the integrity of -

“Sure, that’s what they all say,” Crowley drawled, crossing his arms and deflating all hope that he could save his image in the eyes of these two morons. “Next thing you know, you’re gonna turn around and give us an ultimatum if we don’t do as you command. You humans are all the same.”

You _humans_. The insult rippled through Gabriel, staggering him as if he had been stabbed in the heart. Did he really just accuse an Archangel of being human? No one had had the audacity to mistake him for a human until now. Oh, this was wrong on so many levels. The burning disdain in his gut was something he hadn’t felt in... ever. There had never been this much contempt spilling out of his immortal soul. “So that’s what you think.” He growled under his breath and slowly brought a hand up to his forehead. “This is exhausting. You two have always been... _exhausting_.”

“Always been? Am I supposed to know you?” Crowley asked, turning to give the angel a concerned look. “Please tell me this guy hasn’t bugged my flat too. It’s supposed to be impenetrable! If someone this weird could waltz right up there and fuck around at a moment’s notice...”

Aziraphale tried to shush him by tugging at his arm. “Crowley! Language, if you please!”

But he wasn’t listening. “Maybe I need to have a word with that doorman. He has been letting the odd salesman up lately, and they aren’t all good. Most of ‘em are selling nothing I don’t already got. How many Sham-wows can a man possibly need...?”

“Sham... wows?”

“Yeah. I mean, they were great for getting rid of Ligur, or whatever was left of him, but I still have five left. I don’t need twenty more! ‘S not like I do anything in that place other than sleep, anyway.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunched up in confusion and so did Gabriel’s for that matter, right before he decided that it couldn’t be that important for him to log away what a Sham-wow was for.

The angel couldn’t resist asking, though. He held up a finger, hand extended. “Er, Crowley, what exactly is a Sham-wow?”

He pointedly ignored the question, peering over at Aziraphale with relief. “You haven’t seen the programs. Thank Someone for that. They aren’t that great anyway. Everybody Downstairs designs ‘em to sell stuff, but you’re never supposed to watch beyond five minutes. Rots your brain real quick. So if you ever wanna watch TV when you’re at my place, just remember not to flick on the shopping channel.”

“Oh, so this is yet another demonic ploy you had a hand in?” Aziraphale gave him a scandalized look. “Do these Sham-wows even do as advertised? I’d imagine not, hm?”

“Actually they work amazingly well.”

There was silence for a moment as the angel took that in. He tilted his head to the side. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Hell wouldn’t have sold nearly as many of the things if they didn’t do what we said they could.”

“So it’s all about capitalizing on the greed of humanity,” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose there is a lot of potential to seize upon there.”

“Humans are some of the greediest creatures I’ve come to know,” Gabriel murmured, at a loss for what else to say in the wake of this new addition to the conversation. A headache was starting to throb against the inside of his head, and if he had thought that slamming his forehead against a wall might make it stop then he was to the point where he gladly would have done it. “They steal, lie, murder each other...”

“I don’t see the big deal in letting ‘em buy thousands of dollars worth of Sham-wows,” Crowley said, shrugging. “They’re getting something they can use, and we’re getting something we can use, too. It’s the perfect setup, right?”

Aziraphale puckered his lips, his stare inscrutable. “Perhaps a little too perfect.”

“C’mon, it’s my job - was my job!” Crowley hastily corrected, waving his hands about. “Angel, ‘s not like I invented a more efficient guillotine! I didn’t even come up with the original idea! You can’t hate me for that!”

The longer he stood there, the more Gabriel came to realize why he was in Heaven rather than living down here on Earth. Dealing with centuries of this would have driven him insane long ago. He was being driven slowly down a cliff towards insanity right now.

Loudly, he cleared his throat, hoping to gain the attention of the two squabbling lovebirds. “If you don’t stop ignoring me, I’m going to do something that will befit the definition of a proper threat,” he warned, glaring at them each in turn. “I’m done listening to your incessant chatter. All I want is for Aziraphale to - ”

“Crowley, I could never hate you! Perish the thought! Why would you even speak of such a preposterous thing?”

Again, Gabriel had been cut off, and again he felt his stress level rise exponentially.

Aziraphale stepped over to wrap his arms around the demon’s waist, fingers looping in the leather of his belt as he toyed with the silver buckle. “I adore you,” the angel whispered, sending that lithe body into a fit of shivers from his stare alone. “You are my one and only love. How long have we waited to be together like this?”

“Ah... um...” Crowley’s breath hitched as soft fingertips brushed against his stomach. “Oh, too bloody long, angel. Centuries, eons... Might as well say our whole lives.”

One hand stopped its teasing and dipped down inside the pocket where Crowley had hidden the lingerie from earlier. His hips squirmed from the sensation. “And this article you brought over... who was meant to wear it?”

“I, er...” He blinked, then stared down at the hand that was still working its magic on his belt. “Well, I thought that maybe... you might like it if I dressed up a little.”

Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from staring at what felt like such an intimate moment. He could be a fairly callous person when called upon, but even he didn’t want to invade on something this personal - whatever it was. Mostly for the sake of his own sanity. If they were going to do the mating thing, he was most assuredly not going to sit around and watch. He couldn’t understand why it was happening at all. For humans it was a process by which to create more humans, so it was natural for them. But why would an angel and a demon feel the need to mate? They couldn’t reproduce. Was this a result of them ‘going native’ or something?

“That does sound like a lovely idea.” Aziraphale smiled warmly at him, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “Why don’t you go ahead and get ready upstairs? I’ll be right with you.”

Crowley’s face could have easily replaced a stop sign for its intensity, but he still cast a reluctant glance over at Gabriel. “You sure?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll be but a moment.”

Then he turned towards Gabriel, and there was such a look of intensity on the angel’s face that he actually started to grow uneasy. What if Aziraphale decided to breathe fire on him, like he nearly did in Heaven? Then again, he was acting like he didn’t know Gabriel, so maybe there was no need to be concerned?

“My apologies, sir, but I need to close the shop early today. I wouldn’t mind addressing your queries at a later date, as long as you cease and desist with the whole spy business. I can forgive you this time, but I shan’t be this polite the next time my privacy is breached.”

“But - ”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Very well. I was hoping not to have to resort to this, but seeing as you’re quite the stubborn man...”

He reached over, grabbing a bewildered Archangel and hefting him up into his arms. He didn’t show any strain from the action whatsoever, and Gabriel was appalled by that and many other things that he would never tell a soul about. Somehow he felt like this was the preferable option compared to what could have happened, but he wasn’t about to go quietly. “What do you think you’re doing!?” he raged. “Unhand me right now!”

“Would you prefer I toss you out by your collar?” Aziraphale’s smile was as agreeable as always, but this time there was a twinge of something volatile poking at the edges. He wasn’t angry, per se, although the heat in his tone implied that he wasn’t pleased either. “Doing so would alarm too many bystanders, and I’m sure the authorities would have a field day sniffing about the shop if I drew too much attention, so I think it would be best to play it safe for now.”

“Why did you threaten to involve the police if you intended to just throw me out!?”

“Ah, well. Due process and all that. You know how it works down here.” The angel frowned a little. “Oh. I suppose you might not know, actually. Never you mind. That moment has passed, anyway.”

Gabriel let out a surprised noise as Aziraphale tightened his grip on him. He had been present when Aziraphale was originally created, had seen his potential firsthand. Personally there hadn’t been much to garner his full attention back then; but now, as Aziraphale strode purposefully towards the door of the shop with him dangling like an empty sack in his arms, he began to think that he should have taken a closer look at this odd Principality when he had the chance.

“Wait, hold on a second - you could have done this ages ago. Why didn’t you?”

The angel shrugged, appearing indifferent towards him and his question. “Fighting is what I strive to prevent, not engage in,” he replied, opening the door with a careful kick. “Remember, you did this to yourself. I asked nicely and you chose to disregard it.”

Without further ado, he threw Gabriel impatiently out onto his stoop. It wasn’t much of a throw either. Aziraphale was obviously holding himself back from using his true power, but it still felt like Gabriel had been chucked halfway across London by the time he hit the ground. Whatever air he’d been holding in his lungs, for appearance’s sake, was ejected in an instant.

Gabriel curled up, rolling onto his back with a strangled wheeze. “What happened to... playing it safe?”

“I don’t see any eyes on us. Do you? As my dear Crowley said, tomorrow might be a better target. I’ll be here, should you decide to return.”

The slam of the door was loud and unforgiving. Gabriel spluttered for air as he watched the sign turn to closed, and the drapes drew down onto his dignity.

* * *

Crowley snickered to himself. He had retreated up to Aziraphale’s bedroom at his suggestion, but he couldn’t resist peering through the window down at the limping form of Gabriel. He was trying to walk down the street without looking like he’d lost a street fight, and failing miserably at the attempt. “He dropped the poor bastard right on his head!” he crowed. “I can’t believe it! I couldn’t hope to buy tickets to a better show!”

He had always known that Aziraphale was strong, but even when he was holding back the stupid Archangel couldn’t handle it. Heh, what a wuss.

“Brilliant. I should post that on YouTube. Imagine how many views I’ll get... Oooh, that sounds like a riot.”

Aziraphale had stepped into the room before he could even blink. “Don’t you dare, Crowley!”

Figures he wouldn’t want him to. Crowley frowned, turning with his phone in hand. He wiggled it about, showing off the locked screen as proof that he had yet to condemn anyone to the fate of becoming a YouTube star. “I didn’t do anything,” he sighed, slipping the phone into his pocket with a huff. “It’s more for personal purposes, really. But angel, just think of how popular it’d be! I can guarantee that moron’ll become an instant hit!”

“No,” he stated, firmly shaking his head. Zira practiced putting his foot down a lot these days. It usually resulted in a lack of amusement on Crowley’s part and a buildup of mischievous comments that earned him some rather interesting punishments. “I’m sure you’ve caught me on that recording device as well, and if Gabriel becomes popular then so will I. And so will my shop. I don’t want to gain any more notoriety than I already have!”

“Right, I know,” Crowley groaned, pouting his lips. “You’re no fun.”

“Excuse me? I am the epitome of fun!”

“No, no! No magic!” That was one of the highest forms of unusual punishments, right there. He waved his hands erratically until Aziraphale put the coin reluctantly back into his pocket. “The occasion doesn’t call for magic. Please.”

The angel lifted his nose high into the air, staring down it in such a way that it could have made the toughest person rethink their life choices. “One of these days, you will beg for me to show you a magic trick,” he said huffily.

“The only way I see that happening is in bed.” Crowley’s comment made Aziraphale chuckle, and the fond smile was taking him over before he could stop it. “Angel, I’ve seen you do proper magic. The coin trick doesn’t cut it.”

“To you, perhaps. But sleight of hand is an art, I’ll have you know.”

He moved to sit down on the bed, patting a comfortable spot beside him with a hand. “Care to join?” he asked. “I’m sure Gabriel is out of sight by now.”

He was definitely out of both sight and mind. Crowley had stopped caring about Gabriel the instant Aziraphale had walked in. The only one he didn’t want to lose sight of was sitting in front of him, smiling the kind of patient smile that dimpled his cheeks and oh Lord, how could he ever go against anything his love asked of him? It was starting to become a real issue.

He crossed the room in a couple of brisk steps, lowering himself down close beside the angel with a sigh. “Not to be a stick in the mud, but do you think we put it on too thick with him? I mean, he’s bound to come back eventually. We can’t just pretend not to know him forever, as amusing as that sounds.”

Aziraphale nodded and hummed, glancing thoughtfully out the window. “He believes it for the time being, but I do intend to explain myself when he does return.”

Like he’d be inclined to listen. Knowing Gabriel, he could pick the most inconvenient and dangerous time to show himself. He was also one for petty revenge, and willing to do whatever was necessary to get it done. Crowley gave him a firm look. “Lemme know if you want me around for that. I won’t let him pull anything,” he said, reaching for the angel’s hand. The giddy thrill he felt as their fingers laced together made him melt inside.

The smile that was being sent his way only added to the feeling. “I do appreciate that, dear.”

“Sure, ‘course. ’M just glad I read your signals right,” he muttered. Aziraphale had seen Crowley glaring through the window of the shop when he first arrived, and if he hadn’t paid attention to that careful wink he might have burst in there and tackled Gabriel to the floor. That would have been ill advised, of course, but Crowley rarely used his logical brain when he was smothered by blind rage. “Yeesh. Could’ve been a real bloodbath otherwise.”

“Crowley, we don’t - ”

“It’s metaphorical.” He paused, taking a moment to let the warmth of his angel’s hand sink into his bones. It was a comfort that he couldn’t find anywhere else in the world, and he wanted to bask in it for as long as possible. “Although I am wondering why you went through that whole charade.”

“Why did I pretend not to know him?”

Crowley nodded.

For once, Aziraphale grinned. The sight of it was about as rare as the odds of Crowley saying thank you to anyone other than his angel. So, basically, there was a snowball’s chance in Hell that he’d ever see that type of smirk again before the turn of the next century. He decided to bask in its glory while it was still present. The last time he had seen such a triumphant look on his angel’s face had been quite a while back, during the Blitz. “Despite all the risks involved, it was entertaining to inflict a bad case of the forgetsies onto him,” he said.

Crowley’s attention wavered for a minute. The... what now? He held up a hand, his eyebrow shooting up in disbelief. “Wait, hold up. Lemme hear that again.”

“Hear what again?”

He waved a hand in irritable circles. “What did you call that? Inflicting a bad case of...?”

Aziraphale beamed proudly. “The forgetsies. An apt name for such a tactic, don’t you agree?”

“Sure, sure. About as relevant as _tickety-boo,_ ” Crowley agreed with deep sarcasm that either went ignored or unnoticed. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“Oh Crowley, I was so elated to be able to show even a small bit of indifference towards him! I’ve spent so many centuries worrying over what Gabriel would say or do if he found out about us, or what we were trying to achieve together. He’s been lording himself over me since the beginning, and I have always been forced to grin and bear it. But not today! Today, I was free to act as I liked, even if it was a ruse. It was just so... well, freeing.”

Aziraphale chuckled, stretching his arms in a relaxed line above his head, and he looked so pleased with himself that it made Crowley’s heart sing. Not only was he filled with joy to see him like this, but he was proud as well. It took so much courage to stand up to people like Gabriel and Beelzebub. He had always known that the angel had it in him to dig in his heels. Never doubted him for a second.

There was a shift in weight on the bed beside him. Crowley felt his cheeks heat up as Aziraphale turned to give him a gentle kiss. “Thank you for playing along. It must have been a challenge.”

Calling it that was an understatement, but the demon didn’t feel like going there. He sighed into the kiss instead, his fingers slowly tangling in golden curls as he pressed more insistently against his lips. “Don’t thank me for that,” he whispered against his mouth, breaking the kiss to smile at him. “I’ll always be there for you if you need me, Aziraphale. You don’t have to say thanks for that. ‘S what husbands are supposed to do anyway, right?”

The angel smiled teasingly at him. “So you’re implying that we’ve been married since the beginning?” he asked.

Crowley furrowed his brow, but he didn’t look away. “Haven’t we? If not, then I’ve spent roughly 6,000 years fussing one-sidedly over you.”

Aziraphale giggled, not exactly looking eager to dispute the fact, and wriggled deeper into his arms with a contented sigh. “Mm. Fair point, but what should I thank you for, then, if not for doing what a husband should?”

“I dunno.”

Crowley thought about it. He stared up at the ceiling from the warmth of Aziraphale’s arms and pondered if there was anything he had ever done that was deserving of a proper thank you. Nothing he could think of right now. Well, maybe not _nothing_.

A devious smile curved his lips. “I got it. How ‘bout you thank me for bringing over those nice, skimpy tights that you practically shoved in Gabriel’s face?” He draped a dramatic arm over his eyes, groaning with feigned despair. “The humiliation of it all! How I’ll ever be able to face Heaven again, I don’t know!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Aziraphale’s hands flew to his mouth as he realized what he had accidentally done. “I hadn’t thought about that! It was completely unintentional - at least, the first time was.”

Crowley snickered. His angel was too adorable to tease. “Yeah, I gathered that much,” he said. Smiling, he leaned his head on the soft shoulder, pressing his lips to the exposed flesh that he could reach. “It wasn’t that bad, actually. A bit embarrassing sure, but it was worth it to see how excited you got.”

Aziraphale bent down to kiss his temple in return, running his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand. “Was it that obvious?” he asked in a whisper.

“I’ve tempted you enough to know what your arousal looks like, angel.”

“You are so crass.”

“Demon, remember?”

A companionable silence settled over them both in a blanket, and it was coziness incarnate. Neither of them felt the need to move apart. In fact, Crowley was feeling an innate urge to move closer, to twine himself around his angel until every inch of him was surrounded.

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley as the demon’s arms wrapped even further around him. “Well, the shoe is on the same foot this time,” he said, quirking his lips up into a small smile. “I assume you liked the display of strength?”

“Are you kidding? I loved it. You were so sexy back there.” He grinned. “Why? Did you do it on purpose, just to impress me?”

The angel nodded. His hand trailed lightly along Crowley’s thigh, stopping just above the knee. “Maybe a little,” he murmured, giving an earnest look that made him let out a tight wheeze. “I wasn’t about to stand by and let Gabriel of all people get away with calling you an idiot. He has no right. You’re amazing, lovely, kind and sweet...”

Too many compliments, too fast. Crowley felt his head spin. “Angel,” he pleaded, biting his lip. “It’s too much.”

“But it is the truth. You are the most beautiful creature to walk this planet, and I am the luckiest angel alive to be able to say that you’re mine.”

What a sly bastard. Stealing his lines, turning him into a lovesick, speechless fool with every uttered syllable. It wasn’t fair. He was the one that did the tempting! That was exactly why he’d brought the lingerie!

But in that instant, it hadn’t mattered. Those words, spoken with such adoration, were the foundation for his whole world.

Crowley trembled, pressing his forehead against Aziraphale’s. His voice shook with more than just desire when he finally spoke. “I love you so much, angel. Love you, love you forever. I love you.”

“And I you, Crowley.”

Needless to say, the lingerie didn’t last long.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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